


Dinner At The Tower

by SlothSpaghetti



Series: Sleepless In Stark Towers [3]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abstinence only education is a joke, Body Image, Cyber Bullying, Developing Relationship, F/M, I'm not a sex expert, I'm not going to be painting religion in a good light here, Implied Anal Sex, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Pining, Religion bashing, Sex Talk, Sleepless idiots, Social Media, Toxic Relationship, but I tried to write decent advice, controlling boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:29:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26987515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlothSpaghetti/pseuds/SlothSpaghetti
Summary: Peter invites you over for dinner at the tower. Tony learns some new things about you.
Relationships: Tony Stark/OFC, Tony Stark/Reader
Series: Sleepless In Stark Towers [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965925
Comments: 10
Kudos: 117





	1. Your PoV

My Stark cup was passed back to me, filled to the brim with sugary coffee slush. It was another late night, or early morning depending on how you looked at it, and I was thinking it was very early in the morning and I couldn’t remember the last time I had consumed solid food. I plucked a brown speckled banana out of the basket by the cash register. 

“That’ll be $7.50.”

I cringed and tapped my debit card on the reader. There went the last of my food budget for the week. I shouldn’t have spent so much on spray paint for the street art assignment. Or spent so much on frappes, but I needed them. After thanking the nice lady behind the counter, my feet took me to the large auditorium across campus, while my eyes scanned my calendar. I needed to put at least 30 minutes into re-budgeting the rest of the month. At this rate, I was gonna have to learn to make my drink of choice at home or become a stripper. I plugged ‘BUDGET REVIEW’ in for two am because that was the only free time I had available. Every other part of the day was carefully crafted to catch up on reading, review notes, work on art projects, and attempts to keep my long-distance relationship alive. 

Peter, of course, came to my rescue on the food front.

**_Petey-Pie-_ ** _Aunt May is having a date over for dinner tonight. Wanna have dinner at the tower with me? You can see my room!_

**_You-_ ** _YAAASSSSSSS_

**_You-_ ** _how could I say no to free food?_

**_You-_ ** _get to school you truant_

**_Petey-Pie-_ ** _it's Thursday babes, I have my internship today._

**_You-_ ** _oh yeah, sorry I forgot_

**_Petey-Pie-_ ** _it is legit fine my dude. Have a good day at college!_ 💖

**_You-_ **❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤

The rest of the day was a blur. I had to rearrange my calendar, swapping my essay writing in the evening with reading catch up. It would take me almost an hour on the subway to get to the tower. That would be a good time to read and if I couldn’t focus, I could brainstorm ideas for street art ideas. 

Obviously, I didn’t do any of that on the journey to the tower. We were in week four of my Tony Stark crush/obsession and currently, I was busy rereading an article from the 2010 hearing about the Iron Man suit, and how his actions had kept the suit’s technology out of the hands of terrorists. I knew I needed to stop, it wasn’t healthy, but I justified it. What was wrong with getting to know someone who my best friend was very close with? 

As I was tapping in at the station it occurred to me I might see him tonight. Regret washed over me. Leggings and an old flannel shirt did not scream ‘make bad choices with me’, nor did unwashed, clumsy twin french braids. I looked like a walking fucking nightmare. Maybe I wanted to be more than close with Tony. 

The moment I was out of the station and in the crisp fall air, the music stopped playing in my earbuds and the caller sound assaulted my ears. I fished my phone from the breast pocket of my shirt and saw Nathan’s face. We weren’t supposed to be having a call right now. I swiped to answer and returned the device. 

“Hey, Nathan, what’s up?” I put on a cheerful voice. 

“Dumplin’ what the fuck was with that Instagram post?” Of course, he took issue with that. One single fucking post about a new body-positive painting I was working on, using myself and experience as the main subject. Even that charcoal artist I really liked had commented on it. Saying they really enjoyed this positive turn in my work. Followed me and everything. It made my day. 

“It’s just a new series I’m working on. Why are you upset?” I asked, guilt tightening in my stomach, forming knots and churning with emptiness. 

“You’ll fucking post naked pictures of yourself on the internet but won’t send me a nude?”

“I’m not naked in that painting. I clearly have underwear on,” I protested, gripping the shoulder straps of my bag.

“Whatever, you’re a fuckin’ whore and now everyone knows how fuckin’ gross you look.”

I stopped walking up the steps to Stark Towers. I felt naked and sick. The wind picked up and chilled the tears forming tracks down my cheeks. 

“I have to go, Nathan,” I tried not to sniffle. 

“Delete the picture, Dumplin’,” he ended the call. 

Shuffling out of the way of the front doors, I stood off to the side to collect myself. I had been really proud of that work. It had felt so scary to start it but felt so good expressing those emotions. Opening that side of myself up and not just making another self-deprecating joke about my rolls or jiggles or fatness felt right. Why was I letting him ruin that for me?

The palms of my hand scrubbed away the last of the tears and I composed myself enough to walk into the giant, white marble lobby of Stark Towers. Immediately my glasses fogged up, but I saw Peter chatting animatedly with two massive mountains of man, one blond and the other with long dark hair. I waved to get his attention, trying to point to one of the large sofas and communicate that I’d wait for him to finish up. He was having none of that, practically shouting my name in the mostly quiet space. A big, polite grin was plastered on my face, I really didn’t want to meet new people right now. 

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes, this is my cousin. She’s the one who made those cookies,” he beamed at me and then each of them. 

My heart skipped a beat and felt the smile falter on my face. As I shook each of their massive hands, properly introducing myself, I was planning how to kill Spider-Man. You don’t just spring fucking Captain America and the Winter Soldier on a girl. Two men who have transcended time for one another. 

“It’s nice to meet you both,” I tried to grin bigger. “If Petey-Pie here had said he’d be introducing me to people I wouldn’t have dressed like a slob.”

“Well Queens here has been talking nonstop about you today, so we thought it would be nice to meet you in person,” Steve smiled, flashing a set of perfect white teeth. 

“Only good things I hope?” I rubbed the back of my neck.

“You might as well ’a hung the moon, Doll,” Bucky smirked and crossed his arms. 

I felt a blush spread across my cheeks and let out a solitary laugh. 

“It was nice meeting you,” Steve looked at me, then my cousin. “Petey-Pie, keep up the good work. We’ll see you next week.”

We waved them off and then Peter took me back to the elevator bays. Talking to each other about anything had always been easy. We had no secrets, except, well I maybe had a few, but they weren’t ones that I would burden my world-saving cousin with. I could manage on my own. Peter talked the whole ride up about how the start of his senior year was going, where he was looking at applying for college, how he and MJ weren’t sure if they wanted to go to the same school or not. When I asked how she was he suddenly went quiet. 

“What’s up, dude? Trouble in paradise?” I dropped my backpack next to his huge bed and followed him back out to the shiny communal kitchen and living space. 

Two glasses of chocolate milk were filled and his phone was fiddled with, before he paced up to the ceiling to respond to my questions. 

“How did you know you were ready for sex?” He crossed his arms, his brown hair flopping adorably even upside down. 

“I wasn’t,” I answered honestly, taking a sip from my milk. 

“What?”

We both turned to look at a sleepy looking Tony Stark. His jeans were slung low over his hips, socked feet padding his movements through the room. He only had on a black wife beater, his strong, muscular arms on full display. The arc reactor in his chest glowed brightly through the fabric, giving his face a subtle, enchanting blue hue. 

“Talking about sex,” I grinned, my sleep-deprived and run down brain just letting my mouth go off, not caring that I could be embarrassing Peter, or that I should probably be embarrassed myself.

“Wear a condom, ask for consent, and do what feels natural,” Tony grabbed a premade green drink from the fridge. “Also wait until you and your partner are legal, Kid.”

With those parting words, he wandered off, back to where he came from. Peter’s face was flushed at having been caught talking about something so personal by Tony. I could practically see the embarrassment radiating from his skinny frame. I took another sip of my milk and waited for him to calm down a bit more. 

“Are you thinking you’re ready for the next step with MJ?” I asked. 

“I-, maybe, possibly, we talked about it over the summer, kinda, and haven’t really since,” he frowned a bit. 

“Are you all frowny because you want to do it or because you are unsure?”

“Unsure. She is like really ready and it’s so cringy being the one to ask to slow down,” he started pacing again. 

“But she is respecting your boundaries?” He nodded, and I continued, “That’s good Pete, you’ve clearly got an open line of communication, which is the first step. It’s important to know what you are comfortable with. Doing something to yourself and letting someone else do it to you are very different. Like you may be comfortable masturbating, but inviting someone else into that vulnerable moment changes it.”

“Like when I told her I was Spider-Man?” He stopped momentarily to get my confirmation before he started up again. 

“Yeah,” I smiled a bit. “I’m assuming Aunt May gave you  _ The Talk _ .”

“Oh god yes, it was so awful. I’d rather fight the Hulk in my underwear than go through that again.” 

I walked around the kitchen island and climbed up onto a barstool. “Okay, so you understand the mechanics of it then?”

“I had actually sex ed, unlike you, yes.”

“Self-taught sex ed is still sex ed,” I frowned, leaning back into the tall chair. “I would say it was probably better than any school derived crap, but that ain’t the point. What’s making you so hesitant?”

“What if I’m bad at it? What if I hurt MJ? What if we change our minds? How is this gonna change our relationship?” Peter rambled, running a hand through his hair and nearly missing his own glass of chocolate milk that sat untouched on the counter. 

“Being good at sex takes practice. What works with one partner, might not work with another because everybody’s different,” I started. “If you are concerned about controlling your strength, I’d probably suggest you let her take control, let her be on top, set the pace, ya know?” I suggested. “And if anyone changes their mind at any point, you both just stop. It could be just an awkward position or it could be that one of you realizes you weren’t as ready as you thought.”

“Can you do that? Just like stop?” Peter stared at me, eyes wide. 

“Of course, you should be communicating the whole time. How else will you know what’s making your partner feel good and how else would you tell them what makes you feel good?”

“That makes sense, they don’t really talk a lot in porn.”

“That’s cause porn is all staged, it's like a cop show on TV. Everything is scripted and not how it actually is in real life,” I smirked. “You should talk to MJ about it and maybe plan a date or something on a night when Aunt May will be out all night.”

“What if our relationship just turns into sex though? I really like hanging out and building lego and studying together.” Peter walked off the ceiling and came to stand next to me. 

“These are concerns you need to be open about with MJ, Pete. I’d bet my last dollar that she feels the same. Communication is key for a reason,” I wrapped my arms around him and brought him in for a bear hug. “Also sex is supposed to be fun, don’t put too much pressure on yourself.”

“Why do you give the best advice?”

“Because I am secretly a grandma residing in the skin of a young person,” I laughed. 

“Don’t be gross,” Peter shoved lightly on my shoulder. “What do you wanna eat?”

Later when we are both so full we’re moments from exploding, lounging on the couch, and watching reruns of The Office, Peter looked up from his homework and stared at me. I could feel his eyes boring into my face as I typed furiously on my scummy old laptop. 

“You are staring at me.”

“You said you weren’t ready for your first time.”

I sighed and looked up from my work into his wide, concerned eyes. He would bring that up. Somehow impossibly smart and resourceful, but an idiot at the same time. 

“Yeah,” I adjusted my computer over my crossed legs. 

“Do you wanna talk about it? Or why you were obviously crying before you came over?”

“Pete,” I sighed. “I know you don’t like Nathan, but sometimes relationships are hard. Not everyone can be as lucky as you and MJ.” 

“That doesn’t answer my questions.” He closed his book and gave me a hard stare.

We locked eyes, having a glare off. Peter narrowed his eyes and leaned closer to my face. 

“Bah,” I exclaimed, throwing my hands over my face. “Fine, you don’t tell Aunt May about this, got it?”

Peter nodded, holding in his smug little smile at winning our stare-off. I narrowed my eyes at him for a moment longer.

“You know my first was with Nathan and well, he's kinda crazy religious like my mom. So he convinced me, at a time when I was ignorant of sex, that it wasn’t premarital sex or a sin if we only did anal. And being the stupid idiot I was, I believed him. Neither of us knew what we were doing and it was a bad time for me.” I concluded by crossing my arms across my chest, hand clutching my phone through the pocket like it was a life saver.

“Pardon my french, but what the fuck?” Peter shouted. “DUMP HIM, GURL.”

“It’s not that easy Pete,” I covered my face with one hand.

“How is it not easy? He coerced you into sex,” his face flushed with anger. 

“Yeah, and then I agreed to keep doing it, okay?”

“Is he why you were upset earlier? Did he say something mean to you?”

“Nathan doesn’t approve of my new art piece,” I shrugged, still not sure what I was gonna do about that. I had firmly placed that in the don’t think about it pile while I hung out with Peter and did other homework. 

In the background, Dwight was boasting about owning a wig to match everyone in the office. 

“Should we buy wigs and pretend to be the Avengers?”

“What makes you think I don’t already?” Peter half smirked, upset at my deflection as we watched the costume montage. “You wanna build this new lego set I got?”

“Heck yes.”


	2. Tony's PoV

I knew Pete said he was staying over tonight. He told me first thing this morning and I had smirked and teased him about May because that kid was adorably protective of his aunt. He would get all flustered about being kicked out for her date and how he better treat her right or else the friendly neighborhood crime fighter was about to get a whole lot less friendly.

However.

HE FAILED TO MENTION YOU’D BE HERE THOUGH, DIDN’T HE? 

That little shit. I had spent the past 36 hours prepping the new gear for Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb and after they were done testing I collapsed on the lab couch to sleep for a few hours before I needed to have a call with the California office. One second I was listening to the kid babble on about a new web shooter formula he and Bruce were working on and then it was dark. Of course, I just picked the best fucking time to wander into the kitchen for a drink. 

“How did you know you were ready for sex?” Peter’s hushed tone tipped me off that whoever he’d asked he trusted, but that he was freaking out. 

“I wasn’t.”

Just the blatant way you admitted to that nearly knocked me off my feet. I was barely awake and already that was just too much. Sure, I was still having Jarvis monitor your social pages for unusual activity and the pages of that absolute sack of shit you were still with according to Pete. God, just thinking about him reminded me of that stupid Instagram story. Why hadn’t you broken up with him the moment you’d seen it? What is going on in that pretty little head of yours that made you think it was okay for him to just tongue fuck some random? 

Words were rattling around in my brain, but I had been pretty decent recently about keeping my thoughts about you to myself.

However. 

“What?” I demanded, a bit incredulous and still half asleep. 

“Talking about sex,” you flashed me a grin that was downright flirtatious. You would have been able to tell that much from the fucking international space station. I studied your face for a moment. Dark circles highlighted your red rimmed eyes and you looked a bit paler. As an expert in not sleeping, I could tell you had been running for at least 24 hours, probably on a mixture of shit college cafeteria food and energy drinks, but that didn’t explain the redness in your eyes.

Reeling in my thoughts some, I tried to give better advice than my old man had given me way back when, but without being too much of a prude. Only sensible advice and to not be a complete perv in front of the two of you. Speaking of a perv, my second brain noticed your very open button down. With the phone tucked into one of the breast pockets, it pulled down the faded plaid fabric of your shirt and revealed more of your soft pillowy looking cleavage. In the overhead light of the kitchen, I could just see how the lines across them shined a bit differently. 

Why was I now sexually attracted to stretch marks? They were a completely normal part of growth.

“Wear a condom, ask for consent, and do what feels natural,” I rummaged through the fridge to find one of the juices I left in there that morning. Anything to keep my eyes away from your chest. “Also wait until you and your partner are legal, Kid.”

With as much control as I could muster in that state, I walked back to the lab, set my drink next to my screen, and went straight to the bathroom. Like nearly every time I'd woken up since meeting you, I'd had a semi after the power nap. Wet dreams were something I thought ended when you reached my age but apparently not. Depending on what needed to be done when I woke up, I'd either force myself to think of what a creep I was to calm down or I'd force those feelings down and just enjoy the deeply sinful things my mind had conjured up.

Right now, I pushed aside any sort of pervy old man guilt I may have felt and pulled my hard dick free from my jeans. Jesus Christ, I felt like a teenager again, spitting into my hand to get a bit lubrication for the act I was about to commit. The front of my hips rested against the sink as I started to fist my cock. Images of your silky skin came to the forefront of my thoughts. Skin I wanted to suck, bite, and lick until you begged for me to fuck you. What I wouldn't give to hear that slow and low accent of yours say my name, begging me to stuff my fat cock into your pussy. Oh god, it would be so wet and hot, sucking me in until I was buried inside you. 

Fuck I wanted to cum on your tits instead of in a fucking sink. Spread it across those gorgeous goddamn stretch marks with my dick until it got sticky and then make you lick me clean. 

"Ffffuck," I grunted, gripping the edge of the sink.

I tightened the hold around my cock, smearing the precum dripping from the tip around the length. My eye squeezed shut at the sensation and a groan passed my lips as I painted the porcelain with my spunk.

"I wanna do so many bad things to you, Babygirl," I murmured, before I cleaned up and got ready for a long, boring call that was bound to put me in a shitty mood. 

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

I wanted to fire those idiots, honestly. The technology was very simple, the schematics were very clear. Peter could have built a prototype faster with his eyes closed. I scrubbed my face to let out some frustration. After everyone but Pepper had left the call, we had a debrief about the situation, discussing the pros and cons of replacing the team on the project. Ultimately, it was tabled until she was back in the city.

The frustration from the call kept me awake much longer than I wanted. I tinkered on some new code for a suit prototype, but my mind kept wandering back to the conversation you and Peter would have had in my absence. My head thudded against the metal surface of my desk several times before I just gave in to the creep.

"Jay, pull up Peter and my girl's conversation after I left," I should really stop calling you that, but it felt so right coming out my mouth.

The HD security footage came up in front of me. Peter's habit of pacing on the ceiling was slowly driving me insane so I shifted my gaze to focus on your face. You seemed calm and completely relaxed talking about this with Peter, drinking a glass of chocolate milk like you were right where you were meant to be. In my tower, in my house, in my kitchen.  _ Who even drinks milk anymore? _

For some reason, I assumed you'd be more innocent and closed minded. Maybe it was the stereotype of the Bible belt and what that crazy guy from your state, who was pretending to be the vice president, spewed all over the place. But you really gave him some solid advice, mainly just being open and honest with MJ, which it looked like he took to heart. Then you hugged him and I wished it was me you were wrapping your arms around. Why did I feel a little green monster creeping up my spine? 

The conversation drifted to food and school work and I zoned out, working on my code again, until Peter started cursing. I paused the feed and looked at his angry red face. What had him so worked up? Rewinding until you were both working, I started the feed again. First of all, I noticed the practically prehistoric laptop you were working on. I’d get you a new one. 

You were demanding his secrecy and it felt like a rock dropped in the pit of my stomach. Guilt and apprehension took over me, controlling my body as I listened to you try and justify your scumbag boyfriend’s action. Well that kid was sky rocketing to the very top of my shit list. Sure, I had been a playboy a for long time, but I didn’t fuck anyone who wasn’t as enthusiastic about it as I was. 

“No, no, no baby,” I heard myself mumble at your confession. “Jay, pull up her insta.”

Beautiful flesh tones bathed the barren wasteland of my lab. The heavy brushstrokes and delicate, detailed flowers that grew from your skin worked in perfect harmony. Fine details showed me more of the stretch marks that covered your skin. I tilted my head, zooming in on the image seeing the faintest red lines crossing the skin of your thighs. Even this blown up on the screen, they weren’t more than a few pixels wide. I wouldn’t have seen them if I was looking at this on a phone, but on the massive scale of my screen they were demanding attention. 

I blinked the tears away, quickly diverting my gaze away from the image. Oh my sweet girl, what were you doing to yourself? I turned my focus to the comment section instead of thinking about it too hard. It wasn’t for me to know yet. There were a couple of randoms discussing skill and critiquing, a very eager Peter comment with too many emojis about how amazing it was, but then below that were a long series of vial, hateful comments. Degrading your talent and body for no other reason than because they could. Below those despicable comments, was a single comment from Nathan’s account.  _ Delete this, _ was all he wrote. 

Well I was definitely going to order an illegal drone strike on his fucking ass. My smoothie cup was cast into the recycling. Regret and hunger made my stomach churn. When was the last time I had stopped for real food? I couldn’t remember, but it looked like you two had leftovers from the security footage. The time displayed on my screen said it was nearly three in the morning. I closed down my work station, determined to snag the food and then go to bed. Maybe come up with a way to talk to you about your painting to boost your confidence without sounding like a perv. Maybe I could just buy Instagram? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Murderous, protective Tony gives me all the feels.

**Author's Note:**

> Real talk, had a guy try and convince me anal wasn't real sex and I had a friend who only did it because her boyfriend convinced her it wasn't a sin. Religion can be fucked up and it's important to educate yourself through reliable, factual sources. Don't let idiots coerce you into sex.


End file.
